<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>an imperfect image by rainny_days</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033656">an imperfect image</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainny_days/pseuds/rainny_days'>rainny_days</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dimension 20 (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mentor/Protégé, Parenthood, Platonic Relationships, Reincarnation, THERE'S SO MUCH POTENTIAL, and hope we get a better look at their relationship one day, ayda raised garthy, garthy raised ayda, look im just very invested in these two, why does ayda trust garthy so much? LET ME PUT FORTH A THEORY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:42:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainny_days/pseuds/rainny_days</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Garthy O’Brian knows exactly how to help a kid growing up on the Leviathan. They also know how Ayda Augefort takes her tea. </p><p>These facts are not unrelated.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Garthy O'Brian &amp; Ayda Augefort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>152</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>an imperfect image</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so i was coming home from class and the thought crossed my head: 'what if garthy and ayda knew each other from a previous incarnation?' and then i went feral</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once upon a time, Garthy O’Brian finds a woman made of flame and feathers in a strange, large room. The woman, perching on a rafter, a book in her hand, looks down at them, eyes golden and stern.</p><p>‘You are a child,’ she says.</p><p>Garthy frowns. ‘I’m <em>seven,’ </em>they correct, and she cocks her head.</p><p>‘That appears to be accurate.’ she pauses. ‘Why are you in Compass Points?’</p><p>Garthy does not know what that is, except that it must be where they are now. ‘Because I dunno where else to go,’ they admit.</p><p>The woman peers at them some more, and Garthy feels suddenly vulnerable under the weight of her gaze. She flies down, landing in front of an awe-stricken Garthy, and kneels before them, considering.</p><p>‘Do you like books?’ she asks. Garthy shrugs.</p><p>‘Dunno,’ they say. ‘Are they fun?’</p><p>‘Very fun,’ she pauses. ‘Would you like me to teach you how to read one? I have many books here, and most of them are very fun.’</p><p>Garthy considers her, considers the room she’s in, vast and beautiful, and nods.</p><p>She takes their hand.</p><p>-</p><p>‘Where the <em>fuck</em> is that punk?’</p><p>Ayda looks up from her book with mild disinterest, peering at the two humans before her. </p><p>‘May I help you?’ she asks, not sounding very sincere. One of the men looks at her, gold-filled mouth stretched into a sneer. </p><p>‘The <em>brat</em>,’ he snarls, hand clenching on his sword. ‘Where the <em>fuck</em> is the goddamn thief? I <em>saw</em> ‘em running in this direction.’</p><p>There is a beat of silence as Ayda continues to consider them, before she inclines her head out another door. ‘I believe you’ll find who you’re looking for down there,’ she says, expressionless. ‘I would thank you to leave any fighting out of my library, though.’</p><p>Before the man can speak, his companion - the wiser of the two, evidently - inclines his head. ‘We don’t want to make any trouble for you, m’am,’ he says, more polite than most in the city. ‘We’ll be on our way.’</p><p>He gestures to his partner, and they begin down the hall beyond the door. After a few seconds, Ayda begins to flip through her book once more.</p><p>‘You can come out, now,’ she intones, eyes still on the page. From the rafters of the great room, Garthy jumps down, grinning.</p><p>‘Where’d you send them?’ they ask, eyes sparkling with teenage mischief. </p><p>Ayda’s face remains expressionless as she replies. ‘To the balcony. I assume they’ll come to the conclusion that you made a daring leap.’</p><p>Garthy snickers. ‘<em>Nice</em>,’ they say. ‘Thanks, Ayda.’</p><p>‘I try to keep the fighting in Compass Points to a minimum, as futile a task as that may be.’ Ayda closes her book, and finally turns her eyes towards Garthy. ‘Perhaps you should stop considering this an adequate place to hide, whenever your ill thought-out plans inevitably go awry.’</p><p>‘Maybe I’d come here less if you weren’t so good at keeping them away,’ they say flippantly, strolling over and peering over at her book. ‘Admit it, you love me.’</p><p>‘You’re one of the few people on this ship with a true respect for knowledge,’ Ayda says, which is an admittance if Garthy had ever heard one.</p><p>‘It’s hard not to, when I see what you can do with it,’ they say, looking at Ayda. They consider it a victory when Ayda almost smiles, the lines around her eyes crinkling slightly. She reaches into her jacket, pulls out a scroll, hands it to them.</p><p>‘Here are the scrolls you were looking for,’ she says. ‘Are you thinking of getting them done soon?’</p><p>Garthy shrugs a shoulder. ‘I was thinking I could get your opinion, first,’ they admit, eyeing the runes on her shoulders enviously. Ayda inclines her head, and Garthy takes it as permission to slide themself into a couch across from her. Ayda flicks her wrist, and a neat tray of tea manifests itself on the table. Garthy pours them both a cup with the ease of long habit, and watches Ayda unfurl the scrolls, listening intently as she begins to speak.</p><p>-</p><p>‘What do you mean, you’re going to be gone soon?’ Garthy frowns, looking down at the bound journal Ayda had put calmly in their hands before making her announcement. </p><p>Ayda looks at them with a familiar look of mildly irritated confusion. ‘I mean, I’m going to be gone soon,’ she says, no less intent in her old age. ‘Surely you know how phoenixes work.’</p><p>Garthy swallows, throat suddenly tight. ‘You mean,’ they manage. ‘You’re saying that you’re going to die.’</p><p>‘<em>Die</em> isn’t quite the right word,’ Ayda says. ‘I’m going to be reborn. Burning this form in order to move on to the next.’ she looks at them for a second. ‘You look upset. Why are you upset?’</p><p>They grip the journal tighter. ‘You can’t be asking me that,’ they say, lips pursed. ‘Ayda- you just told me that you were going to <em>die</em>.’</p><p>‘I <em>told</em> you to pass this on to my next self,’ Ayda corrects, still looking a little confused. ‘It is customary, for me to pass on my experiences in this life to my next self, so that she may continue the work that I and my predecessors have begun.’</p><p>‘But that means that- it’s <em>not</em> going to be you, then!’ Garthy says, trying to point out what seems to them a very simple fact. ‘The person I’m giving this to won’t- they won’t have your memories, your experiences, your- everything!’</p><p>‘That’s why I’m leaving this,’ Ayda explains patiently. ‘Garthy- this version of me is going to be gone, soon. It’s a fact of my existence. There is no need for you to grieve, as there will still be a me around- a mirror image of myself, to continue my life’s work. I am giving you a task- to make sure that my successor maintains Compass Points, the way all of us have. It is a duty that many versions of me did not trust anyone to fulfill. None of this is sad. We will still be friends.’</p><p>Garthy looks at her, the way she seems genuinely lost at the idea of anyone grieving for her, and sighs.</p><p>‘Fine,’ they say, running a hand through their hair. ‘When do you need me to be there?’</p><p>-</p><p>The new Ayda Augefort (as Garthy refers to her in their mind) is not, as <em>their</em> Ayda had claimed, a mirror image of her last self.</p><p>Garthy had known this, deep down, but watching this Ayda - too young, too hesitant, too ignorant to the ways of the Leviathan, too in need of protection - made it clear to them. This Ayda was not a photograph, pristine and accurate, but a portrait, strange and subtly imperfect, fascinating in its singularity.</p><p>Protecting a child is difficult on the Leviathan, and Garthy realizes with some amusement, years in, that they’ve been taking cues from what Ayda did for them, handing the smaller version of Ayda the same books Ayda had handed them, teaching her the same things that they had been taught.</p><p>It is a learning curve, and sometimes Garthy balks, both when Ayda seems suddenly too strange and alien, and when she seems terribly, painfully familiar. They aren’t sure if they were meant for this- protecting someone, bringing them up. They don’t know if it’s right, to see a spectre of the past in this child.</p><p>But-</p><p>‘The Leviathan is full of pirates,’ they tell her. ‘And most of them can’t be trusted.’</p><p>‘But you can,’ she says, wounding in her thoughtless sincerity. ‘I told me you were a good person.’</p><p>Garthy looks at her, eyes wide and sparks flickering off the edges of her wings, uncontrolled in a way they’d never seen their Ayda. They feel a flicker of grief, and is surprised at how easily they can brush it away.</p><p>‘I told <em>myself,’ </em>they correct, gentle. ‘But yes, Ayda, you can trust me. I owe you and your past self a great deal, and I will protect you as well as I can, because I have vowed to do so.’</p><p>Ayda gives them a look that feels uncomfortably like she’s carving their words onto her heart, and Garthy realizes, with the resignation of someone finally admitting a long-known truth to themself, that it doesn’t matter what version of Ayda is in this world. The only fact that matters is that an Ayda Augefort in this world, and that means that they will do all that they can to keep her safe.</p><p>-</p><p>When Ayda is twelve years old, she perches neatly at the edge of a chair in Garthy’s bar as she says ‘I am thinking of getting some tattoos.’</p><p>Her head tilts from side to side as she peers at them, as they absorb her words. ‘My past self informs me that she advised you on your own sigils,’ she continues. ‘And I was wondering if you would do the same for me.’</p><p>Garthy looks at her, bemused, and wonders what kind of strange cyclical timeline they’ve found themselves caught in. ‘Of course,’ they say, because there isn’t anything else they can say. ‘Do you have anything in mind?’</p><p>As Ayda brings out a scroll - Garthy bites down a smile when she struggles slightly, the width of the scroll too big for her small arms - they gesture to the bartender, who knows them well enough by now to bring out a small mug of tea. Garthy nods in thanks, and switches the scroll for the mug, leaving Ayda holding the steaming cup solemnly as they roll out the scroll on the table.</p><p><em>Ayda was right about one thing</em>, they think, as Ayda shifts to peer at the table, listening intently as they begin to speak. <em>We are still friends.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>catch me on <a href="https://tweetsongs.tumblr.com/">@tweetsongs</a> for more screaming about my favorite pirates</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>